Sunday, May 13, 2012

Kinky Kiss and Tell - Linda from Loaning Out Linda, by Steve Maser

Way back in 1989, Steve Maser had the opportunity to interview Linda, of Loaning out Linda fame. The interview has never been published. Until Now.

Linda arrived promptly for our interview, the downstairs buzzer ringing three minutes before the scheduled time, so by the time she arrived at the front door of my apartment, it was precisely two o’clock. Fifteen minutes earlier I had glanced out the window and saw a young woman answering her description standing on the sidewalk, appearing to be waiting for something or someone. We had never met; I had only recently made the acquaintance of Manfred Owen, her “owner” through our belonging to the same health club. One day after a strenuous game of racquetball he had invited me out for a drink. A few beers later we discovered our common interests. I was then engaged in writing a series of articles about the local S&M scene for a now defunct bondage magazine and was interested in interviewing submissive girls. When I learned that my erstwhile racquetball partner was the proud owner of a female slave, I requested permission to interview her, which he granted on condition he could review it before publication, to which stipulation I reluctantly acceded.

The young woman standing now in my doorway was the same one I had seen outside my window. Linda was a comely girl in her early twenties, approximately five foot three inches in height, with blonde hair worn in a ponytail. It was a typical hot July day in New York and she was by no means overdressed for the weather; a pretty pink halter top blouse covered a pair of nicely shaped breasts of more than adequate size, a narrow expanse of bare midriff separating it from the straight black skirt that terminated at mid-thigh. She was barelegged, red nail polish decorating her sandal shod feet. Her face was not similarly embellished, being free of makeup. There was also a curious medallion around her neck, about which more later. She was sexy, yet her face had an unexpectedly wholesome look, a girl next door quality that seemed strangely at odds with what I knew about her. She appeared apprehensive and I sensed that she was shy.

I held out my hand. “Hello Linda, I’m Steve Maser.”

“Hello, sir,” she replied, not quite looking me in the eye while extending a small, limp hand.

Letting go her hand I led her into the living room, directing her to sit on the sofa while I took a seat opposite. “Can I get you something to drink, coffee, tea, juice?”

“No thank you, sir,” she said.

“Do you drink coffee Linda?”

“Yes, sir. I just don’t want any.”

“That’s okay. By the way, you can call me Steve.”

“Uh, Manny told me to call you sir.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.” Actually, I didn’t at all mind having her call me sir but wanted to test her response.

A look of confusion spread over her face. “Uh, I have to,” she said at last. “Manny told me to.”

“Well, we could make this our own little secret. I won’t tell if you won’t,” I said teasingly.

“I don’t have secrets from Manny, sir.” She said this with something approaching indignation.

“Very well, as you wish. By the way I saw you waiting outside before. Why didn’t you come up?”

“Uh, I was early and didn’t want to bother you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded. Why so early anyway? You don’t live that far away.”

She looked down at her feet. “Manny is very strict about punctuality.”

I wondered if she thought I would have reported her to Manny for being late. And if I had would he have punished her? I was tempted to ask but decided not to. Of one thing I was sure, this girl was the genuine article.

Pointing to the item around her neck I said, “That’s an interesting looking medallion. Can I see it?”

She took it off and handed it to me. It was indeed interesting. Embossed on its face was a very recognizable portrait of Linda in profile like you would see on a coin; surrounding it along the sides was the legend “Slave Linda - Property of Manfred Owen.”

I looked up and said, “Did you wear this on the way?”

“Yes, sir, but with the other side showing.”

I turned it around; the obverse side showed the image of a pair of fish with a strange looking symbol in the middle. I looked up inquiringly.

“That’s my sign, Pisces,” she responded.

“Manny had this made for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you wear this all the time?”

“No, sir.”

“Did Manny tell you to wear it today?”

“Yes, sir.”

I handed it back to her. “So does Manny believe in astrology?” I spoke ironically, knowing that my severely logical friend would have little patience with such things.

For the first time Linda smiled. “No, sir, but I do. I mean I don’t know if I really believe in it but I just like it. Manny makes fun of me because of it.” Then she giggled. I was pleased to see her becoming more at ease.

“So I bet you’re into a lot of New Age kinds of things.”

“Uh, like what?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

She paused for a minute, brows furrowed, then said rather solemnly, “Have you ever heard of reincarnation?”

I laughed. “Of course. And do you believe that when you die you’ll come back as somebody else?”

Her pretty bare shoulders moved in a shrug. “I don’t know, sir. I’d like to believe in it. I’ve done some reading about it.”

“Uh huh. And if you could be reincarnated, who would you like to be?”

For a moment she seemed stumped, then said, “It doesn’t matter, except ...” She hesitated.

“Except what?”

“Whoever I became, I’d still want to be Manny’s slave, I mean whoever he ended up being. I’d like to think of him being reincarnated as someone really great.”

“Great? In what way?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he could become President.” She giggled again.

My mind was boggling at the idea of a sex slave in the White House, although I had to admit her devotion to her Master was quite touching. I decided to change the subject. “You said you’ve done some reading about reincarnation. Do you read a lot?”

“Um, I don’t know about a lot. I like to read fiction, especially fantasy stuff.”

“What kind of fantasy stuff?”

“You know, like Lord of the Rings.”

“I see. Tell me Linda, how long have you been Manny’s slave?”

A slight flush appeared on her face. “Uh, almost three years, although I was living with him for a while before that.”

“So what do you like best about being a slave?”

Linda’s face assumed a serious expression as though she were an expert being consulted on a matter of importance. “Just knowing I’m under his control all the time,” she answered at last.

“Interesting. Does anyone else know you’re a slave?”

“Just my best friend Alice.”

“Manny prefers to keep it a secret?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s understandable. And what does your friend Alice think?”

“Um, I think she thinks it’s a little weird, but she’s very open minded.”

“Is she kinky too?”

“No, sir. But she knows everything about sex. She’s slept with lots of guys.”

“What does you friend do?”

“She’s an actress.”

“Uh huh. So-o. What does Manny do to you that you like best?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean of a sexual nature.”

Linda’s face once more assumed a nervous expression. I was struck by her shyness. Kinky girls who’d been around the block like she had weren’t usually this shy, even kinky sub girls. “Um, it’s when he uh, you know, it’s when he uh ... spanks me.” She said this almost in a whisper.

“What was that you said, Linda? I didn’t quite hear you.” This was the sadist in me kicking in. I had heard her perfectly well but was enjoying her embarrassment. It was really quite charming.

She replied this time in a clear voice. “I said I like it best when he spanks me.”

“Okay.” I was trying to think of a followup question when she interrupted me.

“Manny said you ...”

“He said I what?”

“That you liked to ... you know.”

“That I liked to spank girls?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s true. So you see you really have nothing to be embarrassed about. Now you say the thing Manny does to you that you like best is when he spanks you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about sex?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you like spanking more than sex?”

She paused for a moment then said “I guess I do, but ...”

“But what?”

“I’m glad I don’t have to choose.” She started giggling again which pleased me. I sensed she was beginning to warm to me.

“So how do you like being spanked best?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, any favorite positions, implements?”

“Oh. I like it best when he uses his hand. I also like the belt.”

“Yes, I’m fond of using the belt myself. Tell me Linda, have you ever been spanked by anyone other than Manny?”

Linda suddenly froze. She sat staring open-mouthed. I waited for a minute, but when she still said nothing, decided a show of firmness was in order.

“Linda, I asked you a question.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you ever spanked by anyone else?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who was it?”

“It was ... a friend of Manny’s ... also a woman ... Do I have to talk about it?”

Suddenly she seemed on the verge of tears. I must have touched on some painful episode. I thought I understood though. Manny had kept this strangely innocent girl to himself. She was not part of the scene, perhaps didn’t even know of its existence. Then one day he had decided to share her with a friend. But I chose not to inquire further.

The phone rang. I picked up the receiver. It was Manny. “Oh, hi.... Yes, the interview is going very well. In fact we’re finished.... Yes, she was very cooperative. I’ve got some excellent material for my article.... Uh, huh.... Uh, huh.... Really? Are you sure? ... Well, okay, if you’re sure it’s alright. Thank you! Of course I’ll tell you all about it.... Lunch Tuesday? Sounds good.... Yes, I know that place. Okay, see you then. What? Oh yes, of course.”

Was history about to repeat itself? I handed the phone to Linda. “It’s Manny. He wants to talk to you.”

“Hello sir,” she said over the phone. Soon her face turned pale; that by now familiar look of anxiety had returned. “Yes, sir,” she said glumly before putting the receiver down.

I smiled in an attempt at reassurance. “Well, you heard Manny. We don’t have to do this though if you’re not comfortable with it.”

She looked up at me, still more anxiously. “But I have to! Otherwise he’ll be angry!”

I stopped to consider the situation. Now I have my scruples. But Manny’s unexpected gambit had put us both in an awkward position. It appeared it would be worse for Linda if I refused. Then why deprive myself of an undoubted pleasure? Nonetheless I was determined to be as kind to the girl as possible.

“Yes, of course. Now don’t worry Linda, I’ve had lots of experience at this, as much as Manny. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Shall we do it here or in the bedroom? I suppose the bedroom is best. Let’s see, first the hand, then the belt ...”

And so we went into the bedroom. It turned out to be an unexpectedly pleasant afternoon for me. Under the circumstances I couldn’t really be angry when later Manny reneged on permission to print the interview.